Fiddler’s Green

Oh and when you are docked and the long trip is through

There’s pubs and there’s clubs and there’s lassies there too

Where the girls are all pretty and the beer is all free

And there’s bottles of rum growin off every tree

“So wrap me up in my oilskins and jumper. No more on the docks I’ll be seen. Just tell me old shipmates, I’m taken a trip mate. And I’ll see ya some day in Fiddler’s Green”.